Let's Go Get Some Water For Elephants
Excitement for this movie would be an understatement. After reading Sara Gruen's book, the release of Water for Elephants couldn't come sooner. I'm excited to see Robert Pattinson at Jacob and Christoph Waltz as August. The book made me cry and pulled at the heartstrings, that it's making me curious how they've brought it to life.
In the meantime, here's a picspam of the pretty (behind the scenes with Rob and some Christoph). There are possible spoilers in the book and the photos so proceed with caution.
In a semi-unrelated note, it seems like fandom's growing up a bit. The world didn't end with these photos. Surprise!
Age is a terrible thief. Just when your getting the hang of life, it knocks your legs out from under you and stoops your back. It makes you ache and muddies your head and silently spreads cancer throughout your spouse.
With a secret like that, at some point the secret itself becomes irrelevant. The fact that you kept it does not
Keeping up the appearance of having all your marbles is hard work, but important.
The more distressing the memory, the more persistent it's presence.
And then I laugh, because it's so ridiculous and so gorgeous and it's all I an do to not melt into a fit of giggles. So what if I'm ninety-three? So what if I'm ancient and cranky and my body's a wreck? If they're willing to accept me and my guilty conscience, why the hell shouldn't I run away with the circus?
Dear God. Not only am I unemployed and homeless, but I also have a pregnant woman, bereaved dog, elephant, and eleven horses to take care of.
I used to think I preferred getting old to the alternative, but now I'm not sure. Sometimes the momotony of bingo and sing-alongs and ancient dusty people parked in teh hallway in wheelchairs makes me long for death. Particularly when I rememver that I'm one of the ancient dusty people, filed away like some worthless tchotchke.
I stroke her lightly, memorizing her body. I want her to melt into me, like butter on toast. I want to absorb her and walk around for the rest of my days with her encased in my skin. I lie motionless, savoring the feeling of her body against mine. I'm afraid to breathe in case I break the spell.
Sometimes I think if I had to choose between an ear of corn or making love to a woman, I'd choose the corn.
When will people learn that just because you can make something doesn’t mean you should?
When two people are meant to be together, they will be together. It's fate.
Afterward, I curl around her. We lie in silence until darkness falls, and then, haltingly, she begins to talk...She speaks without need or even room for response, so I simply hold her and stroke her hair. She talks of the pain, grief, and horror of the past four years; of learning to cope with being the wife of a man so violent and unpredictable his touch made her skin crawl and of thinking, until quite recently, that she'd finally managed to do that. And then, finally, of how my appearance had forced her to realize she hadn't learned to cope at all.
But it's no use. I m already on my feet. She drags me onto the dance floor, jiving and snapping her fingers. When we're surrounded by other couples she turns to me. I take a deep breath and then take her in my arms. We wait a couple beats and then we're off, floating around the dance floor in a swirling sea of people. She's light as air--doesn't miss a step, and that's a feat considering how clumsy I am. And it's not as though I don't know how to dance, because I do. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me. I'm sure as hell not drunk.
Although there are times I'd give anything to have her back, I'm glad she went first. Losing her was like being cleft down the middle. It was the moment it all ended for me, and I wouldn't have wanted her to go through that.
Is where you're from the place you're leaving or where you have roots?
The more distressing the memory, the more persistent it's presence.
I roll onto my side and stare out the venetian blinds at the blue sky beyond. After a few minutes I'm lulled into a sort of peace. The sky, the sky--same as it always was.